


Long Distance Shooting Is Basically Weaponized Math

by TheOxfordEnglishFangeek (jadinacookie)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadinacookie/pseuds/TheOxfordEnglishFangeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt: Imagine your OTP sharing a smoke and sniping zombies in the rain</p><p>Add to that my own desire to see a Pacific Rim Zombie AU and the notion that Hermann would be a kick-ass sniper and this fic was born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance Shooting Is Basically Weaponized Math

**Author's Note:**

> My first Pacific Rim fic!
> 
> This is also my first time posting my own work on AO3 and as such I'm not too hot on tags/warnings yet. If I've missed something you think you should be included, please let me know and I'll add it.

They call it the Shatterdome. Newt has no idea who came up with the name though he had a sneaking suspicion that Herc Hansen was responsible given the whole Mad Max feel of the place and the fact the man was possibly the most Australian Australian to have ever Australia-ed. He could have asked someone for sure but it seemed of so little consequence given...well everything else they were dealing with. And anyway, he liked the name and if it made him nostalgic for the cheesy 80s movies his dad and uncle had loved well then he was going to enjoy the feeling - it's not like they were blessed with an abundance of good ones these days so he'd take them where he could, even if it meant he got stranger looks than usual as he hummed a Tina Turner song to himself while making his way up to the roof.

He'd been at the 'dome almost three months and still got lost more often than he didn't (though in his defense it wasn't the easiest place to navigate and he could get from his shared room to the mess and the lab he'd been set up with so what did it matter if he couldn't find anything else?) The way up to the roof he'd memorized the first week though, despite it being as convoluted as fuck but then he'd had an reason to learn it and, as always had been the case with him, all Newt needed to do anything was the right incentive.

Said incentive was sat at the edge of the roof underneath a small awning, the hood of his parka pulled up over his head as if not trusting the sheet of plastic above him to keep the rain off. Of course knowing what he did about the man, Newt wouldn't have been surprised if that was actually the case and couldn't help but smile crookedly to himself as he tugged his jacket closed and crossed over to him. "Hey Herm," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the drum of rain that surrounded them. "Mind if I join you?"

Newt swore he could hear the sigh of exasperation that escaped the hood and even beneath the thick parka, he could see the way Hermann's posture stiffened with annoyance. "I have repeatedly told you not to call me that," came the snipped reply. "Why on earth you persist on doing so is a mystery to me, I know for a fact you are more than capable of using words containing two or more syllables so why my name poses such a problem for you I will never understand." He glanced round then and scowled as he took in the sight of Newt rapidly being soaked to the skin under the deluge of rain. "Oh for pity's sake Newton, get under here you fool!" he snapped, turning back to the rifle set up in front of him and missing the grin that spread across Newt's face.

"Thanks Hermann," he replied, ducking under the awning and tugging off his glasses to try and dry them on his shirt. "Well I couldn't exactly let you just stand there could I?" Hermann said with a huff, leaning forward to press his eye to the scope in front of him. "After all, it won't do any of us good if you fall ill due to your utter inability to dress appropriately for the weather."

"Aww, you really do care," Newt shot back, glasses only marginally clearer as he shoved them back on his face before putting his back to the low wall that circled the roof’s edge and sliding down it so he was sat down facing Hermann, the cold of the concrete immediately starting to seep in through the damp fabric of his jeans and jacket. "I'm touched dude I really am."

Hermann just snorted by way of a reply and sat back in his chair, wincing slightly as he did so, a hand going to the top of what Newt knew to be his injured leg where he began rubbing insistent circles with his thumb. What exactly had happened to him differed wildly depending on who was telling the story, the good Doctor Gottlieb being something of a living legend as far as the ‘dome’s residents were concerned, but Newt had seen the man walking around with his cane enough to to draw his own conclusion about the nature of the injury Hermann had sustained. Not that that stopped him from wondering how a guy his own age who dressed, spoke and generally acted like a university professor in their sixties had wound up the best sniper in Stacker Pentecost’s ‘resistance’. 

“So what brings you up here today Newton?” Hermann asked, the question cutting through the silence and Newt’s thoughts and bringing him out of a reverie he hadn’t realised he’d slipped into. “You mean a guy can’t just come up to the roof for a bit of fresh air, enjoy this fine weather we’re having?” Newt replied, only to receive a withering look by way of response, one he had become all too familiar with since he and Hermann had been introduced. 

“Okay fine, you’re right, I’m not here for the weather.” He ignored Hermann’s sarcastic mutter of ‘shocking’ and carried on as if he hadn’t heard him. “I went to see the Kaidanovskys earlier, they got back from their supply run yesterday and I know you like to act like you’re above all the baser human needs but they told me you and I have a certain vice in common,” he said conversationally, looking down as he started fishing through his pockets and feeling the way Hermann’s eyebrows had raised at his comment even if he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, yeah, you and me with something in common, crazy shit right? Anyway, in exchange for me helping them set up a DIY distillery they hooked me up so...” He pulled a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter free from his jacket and held them aloft with a vague sense of triumph. “You wanna smoke?”

The look of sheer surprise on Hermann’s face, his eyebrows having now risen so high they had disappeared behind the fur trim on his hood, almost made Newt burst out laughing but he managed to smother the urge and when Hermann got over his surprise enough to nod, the gesture accompanied by a quiet “Yes, thank you,” Newt wasted no time in shaking a cigarette free from the pack and placing it and the lighter into Hermann’s waiting hand.

“I’d hoped to get hold of some coffee to bring up as well but you know that stuff’s like gold dust round these parts, soon as any surfaces it’s gone again just as fast.” He had briefly considered bringing up a thermos of tea with him by way of a substitute before remembering the rant he had witnessed in the mess hall the week before when Hermann had declared the tea the ‘dome had acquired to be ‘utterly undrinkable’. Newt had up to that point not been aware anyone could be have feelings that strong about tea but then Hermann did have that whole stuffy Brit thing going for him despite the familiar German curve to his speech so perhaps it was understandable. What was clear though was that the adage of ‘bad coffee is better than no coffee’ did not apply to tea, at least not for Hermann.

"Personally I think Tendo's got a secret stash somewhere, I mean the guy has to be caffeinated to the gills to put in the hours he does and I never see him without a cup of something steaming so I wanna know where it is or where he’s getting it because I need to get in on that action."

Hermann made a indistinct noise of what might have been amusement as he lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a deep drag and savoring the heat as it filled his lungs before gently blowing a stream of smoke into the wind to be blown away behind them. "Newton the thought of you with access to that much caffeine is almost as terrifying as that of facing down a horde solo," he said lightly, glancing across at Newt as he took another drag before offering the cigarette to him.

"Dude, did you just make a joke at my expense?" Newt said incredulously, accepting the cigarette with a faintly bemused expression. "'cause if you did, I'm gonna have to do some serious reassessing of my worldview now that it seems you actually possess a sense of humor."

Smirking, Hermann looked like he might have been about to offer a retort but was cut off as an all too familiar sound was carried towards them by the wind, instantly recognisable diminished as it was by the rain and an as yet undetermined distance and the two of them froze, Newt paling instantly. Regardless of how many times he heard it, how much time he spent analysing footage and audio recordings to learn everything he could about them, for that first second or so he was always transplanted back to the first time that he’d heard it in person, to MIT and his lab, the observation window being smashed in... _“Newton!”_

It took a second for him to process that it was Hermann saying his name and it wasn’t just part of his memory but when he did, it was like he was being slammed back into himself, the world coming sharply back into focus. Looked up at Hermann, he saw he already had the rifle pointing in the direction the sound had come from but his eyes were on Newt and narrowed with concern.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said, scrambling to his feet to look out over the wall, trying to calm his breathing as his heart hammered in his chest. _The Shatterdome is safe, **I’m** safe. You are Newt Geiszler, you’ve got six fucking doctorates and you’re helping figure out a way to wipe these guys out and save the world, don’t pussy out now._ It wasn’t the best pep talk he’d ever given himself but it did the trick, even if his grip atop the wall was so tight his fingers were already starting to hurt. “Don’t worry bout me man, just do your thing.”

Hermann looked less than convinced but there was a reason he was posted on the roof more than anyone else despite his injury and so he turned his sharp gaze out towards the horizon, thumb flicking off the safety in a well practiced move, his hands settling into position like they had been made to hold and fire a rifle. “No visual,” he said. “What can you tell me Dr. Geiszler?”

Normally Newt rankled at the use of his title but this time it simply served to help him focus, the calm way in which Hermann spoke steadying his nerves and he took a deep breath before closing his eyes. To an outsider it must have undoubtedly looked ridiculous but the truth was, even if his glasses hadn’t been spotted with rain and steaming up around the edges, he wasn’t going to spot something sooner than Hermann who had phenomenal long distance vision even without the aid of his scope. Besides which, it was so much easier to analyse what he was hearing when he didn’t have a visual to distract him.

For a few moments he listened in silence, his brain filtering out the sound of the rain, Hermann breathing beside him, the sound of his blood pumping through his ears until all he could hear the sounds of the incoming threat. “Pitch is riding low, timbre suggests cat two, maybe cat three, they’re still too far away to make a concrete call,” he began, frowning that he couldn’t be more precise. “Sustain is strong but not overly so, we aren’t dealing with big numbers here thank fuck.” A little of the tension thrumming through him bled away then and he was dimly aware of Hermann letting out a slow exhale of what could only be relief. “Best estimation with all this interference?” he said, gesturing to the rain around them. “Small pack, fifteen to twenty Zs tops.” He opened his eyes and turned to look at Hermann. “You want me to call it in?”

“Not yet,” Hermann replied, dropping down so his eye was to the scope once more, ready to fire. “If you’re right then I’ll be able to handle this perfectly fine alone.” Eyes going wide behind his glasses, Newt looked at Hermann with his mouth agape. “I thought you were Mr. By The Book, Mr. Procedure, going to bed curled up with the rule book like it’s a teddy bear, not, not...”

“Not what Newton?” he replied in what would have been a snap had he not sounded so calm. “There is no-one here better at this job than me and if I believe I can handle it then it will be handled. I am not so arrogant as to not call it in should help be required but not a moment before do you understand me?” More than a little taken aback and not entirely in a bad way, Newt nodded, the gesture urging on frantic. “Clear as a bell man.” He paused for a moment of what felt to be hideously awkward silence before adding. “Is there anything I _can_ do?”

“I wouldn’t object to more of that cigarette,” Hermann said quietly, his words causing Newt to look down only to see that said cigarette had practically burnt down to the filter already and what remained had been crushed by the iron grip he had on the wall. “Erm dude, I hate to break it to you but said smoke is as dead as the fuckers out there.”

“It’s of no great consequence,” Hermann replied, a tiny note of regret colouring what was otherwise a very matter of fact tone of voice and sending a tiny sliver of guilt to lodge in Newt’s mind. "It’s funny you know, I can't actually remember the last time I got to finish one of these."

Resolving in that moment to give the remainder of the pack to Hermann, Newt was about to say something but then another wail tore through the gloom, significantly closer this time and, to his chagrin, caused him to jump. If Hermann saw it, he made no comment though and as Newt’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment, Hermann was the picture of professional detachment, even as he briefly let go of the rifle to reach into his pocket and pull out a set of earplugs that he held out to Newt. “Put these in now,” he said in a tone that brokered no argument. “They’re coming over the hill.”

Newt had just enough time to take them and force the tiny foam buds into his ears before the first shot rang out, the sound hideously loud despite the protection Hermann had just given him and making him flinch. He had never been comfortable around guns and even after the outbreak he had been loathe to use one, the one time he had having been an utter and abject failure. Hermann though, he of the grandad sweater vests and the most hideous shoes Newt had ever seen, he wielded the rifle like it was a extension of himself, each crack of the rifle as he took a shot as regular as a metronome. He wasn’t sure how many shots had already been fired when the thought occurred to him to count them off, see if he had been correct in his estimation, so there seemed little point in starting, leaving him with nothing to do except stare outwards and try to watch as Hermann took the oncoming creatures out one by one.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Hermann stopped firing though it seemed longer and the silence that stretched out after, the two of them still held in their positions seemed longer still. It was Hermann who broke it first, lowering the rifle with a quiet albeit clipped “Threat neutralised.” Only then did he look up at Newt, his voice softening slightly as he went on. “You were right Newton, eighteen in total. Quite decent of them I suppose, the magazine holds twenty so I didn’t even have to reload.”

Newt let out a nervous burst of laughter and sank back down to the floor, letting his forehead rest against the wall and this time appreciating the cold that began stealing its way across his skin. “Agreed, quite decent,” he said in a paltry attempt at Hermann’s accent. “Just what one wants from the animated corpses seeking to devour our flesh.” A shrill giggle bubbled out of him and he thumped his head against the concrete in an attempt to stop it, vaguely aware of Hermann talking on the radio, most likely setting in motion one of the crews to go out and destroy the bodies.

The conversation went on long enough that Newt was just starting to consider the notion that napping while kneeling face first against a concrete wall was actually a fantastic idea when Hermann, clearly done on the radio now, rested a hand on his shoulder. “Newton that can’t be comfortable, are you alright?”

“Nah man it’s not but I’m fine, it’s all good,” he replied, turning back round and scrubbing his hands through his hair. “What’s the word from the men in charge?”

“Mr Pentecost is...less than pleased at not having been informed sooner but he isn’t about to argue with the result,” Hermann replied with what Newt could swear was a fleetingly smug expression on his face that was alas gone before he could confirm it as such. “He is however sending up Miss Mori to start her shift early so he and I can ‘discuss the matter further’. He has also asked to speak to you as well, most likely to expound on your role in the proceedings, corroborate my story.”

“Sure Hermann whatever, I just...” Newt shook his head and pulled out the pack of cigarettes once more. “I could really use one of these first. You in?” An uncharacteristic smile spread across Hermann’s face and he nodded. “Yes Newton, I am very much in,” he replied and this time they sat in companionable silence, cigarette passing back and forth between them until Mako arrived and the two of them made their way from the roof to face the music, Newt slipping the nearly full packet into one of the cavernous pocket of Hermann’s parka as they went and Hermann pretending he hadn’t noticed him do it.

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thanks to homosociallyours for encouraging me to write this, rayvanfox for beta-ing it for me and tumblr user beyondiceandsteel for helping me find my title.
> 
> Feedback/concrit is both welcomed and appreciated if you find yourself so inclined <3


End file.
